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Thomas stood frozen in the shadow of the arched entryway, his fingers gripping the box of the limited-edition Italian toy car so tightly the cardboard began to crease. The expensive gadget felt heavy and dead in his palm, completely useless against the vibrant, chaotic warmth still lingering in the air. / Chapter 13 / 20

Chapter 13 - The Eviction NoticeThomas stared at the documents, his mind racing. It was a classic Sterling maneuver—a hidden trapdoor buried deep within multi-layered corporate architecture designed to strip assets away in the event of an investigation.

"Victoria is in federal custody," Thomas said coldly. "She has no legal standing to execute corporate transfers."

"She signed power of attorney over to me before her grandfather's arrest," Julian replied smoothly, stepping closer with predatory confidence. "Which means, legally speaking, Mr. Caldwell... you and your little family are squatting on private property. You have forty-eight hours to vacate the premises."

From the hallway archway, a soft gasping sound echoed.

Thomas turned to see Clara standing there, holding Lucas’s hand. She had heard every word. Her face was pale, but her eyes burned with fierce determination as she stepped forward into the foyer.

"You think you can just throw a child out of his own home because of a corrupt paper trail?" Clara asked, her voice steady and razor-sharp.

Julian turned, his eyes sweeping over Clara with open disdain. "Ah. The maid turned opportunist. Tell me, sweetheart, did you think playing dress-up with a broken kid would earn you a slice of a multi-million-dollar estate? Because you’re about to find out how the real world works."

Before Thomas could lunge forward to wipe the smug grin off Julian’s face, Clara stepped right up to the lawyer. She didn't flinch, nor did she cower.

Instead, she reached into her pocket, pulled out a small, encrypted flash drive, and tossed it onto the table right on top of Julian’s manila folder.

"What is this?" Julian frowned, glancing down at the tiny piece of plastic.

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"That," Clara said with a cool, dangerous smile, "is the digital backup of Emily’s personal diary and email logs with the federal tax office. It proves that the shell company you’re trying to claim was funded entirely through embezzled charity grants—making every single signature on those transfer deeds an act of federal wire fraud."

Julian’s smug expression vanished in a microsecond. The color drained completely from his face.

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